


Walk On the Left Side

by tainry



Category: Ladyhawke (1985), Ranma 1/2
Genre: 4th wall breaking liek whoah, Crossover, M/M, Silly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-22
Updated: 2016-02-22
Packaged: 2018-05-22 14:23:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6082689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tainry/pseuds/tainry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ladyhawke recast from Ranma 1/2. As one does.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Walk On the Left Side

**Author's Note:**

> It seemed like a good idea at the time.

"Impossible," muttered the voice. "Impossible... Nothing is impossible."  
Vague sounds of scratching and burrowing echoed through the underground  
chamber. "Dig, Mousse, dig!" A chunk of hardened earth fell away, and a  
hand emerged, fingers wiggling questingly in the dank air. It was soon  
followed by a filthy head, long, sleek hair plastered to the forehead, eyes  
squinting myopically in the dimness. "Not unlike escaping Mother's womb,"  
Mousse noted, squeaking a little to get his shoulders past the narrow  
opening. "Kami-sama...what a memory..."

With a last, peristaltic lurch, Mousse was free - falling ten feet to the  
murky sewer-water below. Yuck.

Far above, in the internationally famous Dungeons of Aquila; the latest  
hanging was over, and the next batch of lucky hangees were called for. "I  
want Phillipe Gaston," said Second Assistant Under-Sergeant Jehan. "The one  
they call The Mousse."

But the cell that was supposed to hold the hidden-weapons martial  
artist-turned thief held only one prisoner, not two.

"The Mousse?" babbled the mad murderer. "He left our house, er, hoose. No  
Mousse today; he's gone away. To ease the pain, he...he's down the drain!"

"Impossible!" snarled Second Assistant Under-Sergeant Jehan, poking his  
sword into the narrow hole; too narrow for any normal human to have fit  
through. "Hang ^him^ instead." The mad murderer was dragged away  
screaming.

In the sewer, Mousse was having his own problems. "Kami-sama, I'll never  
pick another pocket again as long as I live. Here's the problem; if you  
don't let me live, how can I prove my good faith to you?" No answer. "If  
you've heard me, then this ledge will remain steady as a rock, and that  
thing coming towards me won't be what I think it is." Still no answer. "If  
not, then no hard feelings, of course, but I'd be very disappointed..." The  
scary-looking thing in the water proved to be a floating steer's skull;  
grisly but otherwise innocuous. Mousse, relieved beyond reason, for he  
hadn't eaten in quite some time and had been otherwise mistreated during his  
brief stay in the Dungeons, got down from his slimy perch in dizzy  
amazement. "I don't believe it..."

From above came voices raised in heavenly praise.

"I believe! I'm coming, Kami-sama!" Mousse pulled his dirt-encrusted  
glasses out of what was left of a sleeve and half-swam, half-waded toward  
the light from a grating capping one of the many stone inlets to the sewer.  
Mousse climbed the slick stone shaft [*down*, hentai!], and poked his  
fingers through the grating.

"Hello," said a little girl, who was bored with the service going on in the  
cathedral, since she couldn't see what was going on anyway. Fingers coming  
up from the darkness below were more interesting... "What are you doing?"

Mousse tried to shoo her away, but in so doing, he lost his grip and fell  
again. This time, a current of sorts caught him and he let himself be  
carried along downstream to a convenient gap in the grille covering the  
outlet, which was supposed to prevent what Mousse was doing, but someone's  
brother's wife's sister's cousin's son-in-law had cut and bent the metal  
bars. Mousse came up in the middle of the moat.

"I know I said never again, Kami-sama," Mousse whispered as he cut the  
strings of the money pouch of the guard sitting on the low wall by the moat  
and eating a sandwich during his lunch hour. "But I also know that you know  
what a weak-willed person I am."

The alarm bells were ringing, and there was much shouting and rushing about  
and carrying on and gorgeous horses galloping with iron-shod hooves on  
cobblestone; all of which made quite a din, but Mousse was already outside  
the city and running.

"One of the prisoners has escaped," said Soun Marquet, reporting to the  
Bishop [the Martial Artist Formerly Known as Genma].

"No one ever escapes the Dungeons of Aquila," Bishop Genma replied coldly.  
"The people of this city accept this as an historical fact."

"You're just saying that because no-one ever has," said Soun, for a moment  
forgetting which crossover he was in. The Bishop smacked him with his  
Almighty Staff of Much Smackage and Hidden Pointy Things. "Er, I mean, the  
responsibility is mine," Soun amended hastily.

"Yes," said the Bishop.

"It would be a miracle if he got through the sewers."

"I believe in miracles, Marquet. It's part of my job."

"It's only one insignificant petty thief," Soun tried to temporize.

"Great storms announce themselves with a simple breeze," the Bishop  
responded dangerously. "And the fires of rebellion can be ignited by a  
single, random spark."

"Wow," said Soun. "You remembered that whole speech without any prompting!  
Ah, uh, I mean, if he's out there, Your Grace, I will find him!"

"Yes." The Bishop held out his huge gold ring for the Guard Captain to  
kiss.

Soun grimaced. "Eew, do I have to?"

"Soun!!" Genma hissed.

"But I don't know where that's been!" Soun wailed, tears fountaining from  
his eyes. Genma rolled his eyes.

"Will you just get on with it???" Genma gave the sobbing Soun a shove, then  
cleared his throat and got back to looking menacing.

Elsewhere and later...

"Give me a mug of your most expensive," Mousse told the barkeep. He'd made  
his way through the snowy mountains, dodging howling wolves, beyond the  
Goblin City...oh, wait, wrong movie... Where was I? Oh, right, anyway,  
he'd stolen some clothes and shoes and, though the guards at Aquila had  
searched him rather - ahem - thoroughly, he still had quite a few things up  
his sleeves.

The barkeep scoffed. "Show me your coin, first."

Mousse reached under his long tunic and displayed the full pouch with a  
suggestive shake, a melodious clinking of copper coming from within. [Stop  
that you hentai! ^_^] "Who will join me in a toast?" Mousse asked his  
fellow patrons, grandly.

"Tell us your toast," someone said.

"We drink to a special man, my friends," Mousse answered. "A man who has  
been inside the internationally famous Dungeons of Aquila and lived to talk  
about it."

"Then you drink to me, little man; I have seen those dungeons."

"A blacksmith, a stonecutter, perhaps; even a tourist," Mousse said. "But  
as a prisoner?"

The man he'd been talking to pulled a fold of his hooded cloak away to  
reveal a helmet on the table. "I did not say I was a prisoner."

"Oh shit!" said Mousse, and made a break for it.

"Get him," said Soun Marquet, watching as his men scrambled around, trying  
to catch the elusive Mousse. Mousse was doing pretty well, with several  
lengths of chain and grappling hooks flying, but in the end there were just  
a few too many guards, and the barkeep threw a full crock of ale and hit him  
in the head, slowing him down enough for the guards to dog-pile on him with  
a sword to his throat.

"Hey, watch it!" yelped Mousse in a last attempt to get away, knocking the  
sword aside. The tip swung wide and nicked Soun's cheek. A dreadful  
silence fell.

"Kill him!!" Soun screamed, bursting into tears.

But just as one of the guards raised his sword to strike, a crossbow bolt  
appeared out of nowhere. The guard screamed and dropped his sword,  
clutching his arm.

Mousse took this opportunity to slip away again. A young man in black, on a  
black horse leveled his crossbow at another guard; the guard thought better  
of his intended course of action... but his pal wasn't as smart and tried to  
rush the man from the other side - and got shot for his trouble.

Soun squeaked. "Waaa! I thought this was supposed to be a 'G' rated fic!"

The Author Looked at him. "When did I say that? I never said that. I said  
it was going to be silly, I didn't say I wouldn't kill anyone."

"That's mean!" Soun said.

"It could be worse," the young man in black pointed out. "She could be  
doing that Rocky Horror crossover people keep threatening us with."

"You have a point." Soun composed himself and reassumed his  
Marquet-persona.

"Can I do my part now?" Kuno asked plaintively.

"Go ahead," Soun said indulgently.

Kuno came forward, sword only half-raised. The young man in black handed  
his crossbow to Mousse, drew his sword, slid from the black horse, and met  
him with a gentle clash of steel. "Captain Navarre!" Kuno exclaimed  
happily.

"Francesco!" Ranma replied, grinning at his old friend as they clasped arms  
in the manly manner of comrades-in-arms. [Ahem. Make of ^that^ what you  
will...]

"'Captain'!!??" Soun snarled. With a vicious shove, he impaled Kuno on  
Ranma's sword.

"Hey!" protested Mousse, from a safe distance. "Weren't you whining about  
the rating of this fic a second ago?"

"It's not my fault," Soun whimpered. "She Who Must Be Obeyed made me do  
it!"

"Me??? You killed ME??? The Rising Star of Furinkan-" Kuno began.

"Shut up, man," Ranma hissed. "You're supposed to be dead!"

The Author put her fingers over Kuno's lips. "Hush, dear. I wanted you in  
and out of this one fairly quickly. You promised you'd, ah, help me with  
the rest of Hesperidean Age, remember?"

"Oh! Right! Sorry!" Kuno flopped down again, clutching the sword of his  
friend in his chest, convulsing and moaning in full Shakespearean agony.

"When one of my men told me you'd returned," Soun said, trying to pick up  
the rather frayed thread of the narrative. "I wanted to cut out his tongue  
for lying. Because I knew you weren't that stupid."

"KATCHU TENSHIN AMAGURIKEN!!!!!!" Ranma of Navarre shouted, and much  
brawling ensued. When most of the guardsmen were dead or injured, Marquet's  
butt was on fire, and Ranma had retrieved his sword from Kuno's body, Ranma  
escaped upon the back of his trusty war-steed, Shampoo - I mean Goliath.

"Goliath is boy-horse!" Shampoo protested.

"Yeah, but he's beautiful," the Author replied. "And you're the last of the  
cursed main characters. Besides, think about whose legs you'll be between  
for a good portion of this fic."

"Ohhhhhh..." Shampoo said, mollified.

Meanwhile, Mousse, after an unsuccessful attempt to steal a horse of his  
own, was running down the road out of the village. Ranma caught up with him  
easily and hauled him up across his saddlebow by the scruff of his tunic.  
Goliath easily cleared the last gate that the guards had just closed, but  
Mousse wasn't too happy about it, given his position at the time. As one of  
the guards prepared to fire his crossbow after them, a lovely red-tailed  
hawk stooped from the sky and raked his face with razor-sharp talons, then  
swooped away to land on Ranma's well-padded wrist.

 

As clouds obscured the sky and the sun began to fall, Navarre and Mousse  
found a poor woodcutter's steading to shelter in for the night.

"If there's nothing else I can do," said Mousse, "I think I'll turn in."

"You can take care of my horse," said Navarre tersely. "And gather more  
firewood. And don't disturb me during the night; I'm liable to take your  
head off before I know it's you."

Mousse sighed and moved to obey; Navarre had, after all, saved his life that  
day. He took up Goliath's reins and tried to lead the great, black stallion  
off to his stall. "Come on girl, pretty girl, come on, now..."

Shampoo, true to her part, refused to budge.

"Stubborn little lady," said Mousse. "What's her name?"

"*His* name," Ranma Navarre said, smirking, "is Goliath. Go with him, boy,  
he didn't mean to hurt your feelings."

"HIS name!" Mousse bent over to look. Shampoo resisted the urge to kick  
him in the head. "Goliath. Pretty name! Come on, boy..." Now the  
stallion followed, if reluctantly. "Goliath," Mousse continued. "Before we  
get to know each other better, I feel I should tell you a story about a  
teeny little man named David..."

Later, Mousse was out in the forest gathering deadwood, when he heard a twig  
snap. "Who's there? Show yourself." He dropped the bundle of twigs and  
branches [I'm resisting the urge to call this a 'fagot', aren't you proud of  
me, Larissa?] and readied several weapons in his sleeves.

From behind him, the woodcutter, intent on getting more out of his 'guests'  
than the handful of coppers they'd paid him, raised his rather  
unpleasant-looking axe. But before he could complete his swing, and before  
Mousse nailed him with half-a-dozen throwing knives, a black wolf leaped out  
from the trees and ripped the woodcutter's throat out.

"Wow," said Mousse, a little impressed, despite the messiness of it. He  
hastily retreated to the relative safety of the rickety barn. Navarre did  
not respond to his calls. Shrugging, he fumbled desultorily with Navarre's  
crossbow, though such was not his weapon of choice, and he didn't really  
mean the wolf any harm as long as it left him alone.

Out of the darkness, a white hand touched his wrist. Mousse jumped and  
dropped the 'bow. The face of the person beside him was so beautiful, he  
did a classic double-take. Even without his glasses, he would have been  
stopped in his tracks by this face.

"Ssh," said the boy, shaking his head. He seemed to glow with his own,  
inner moonlight. He moved past Mousse out into the yard.

"Wait! My Lady!" Mousse began, then put his hands on his hips and regarded  
the Author. "I don't really have to call him that, do I? My disbelief is  
suspended enough as it is."

"Be nice," said the Author. "I could do worse things to you than Rocky.  
All right, even though it's in the movie title, you may dispense with the  
'my Lady' stuff."

"Fine. Thank you. Wait! There's a wolf out there! A big wolf! The  
biggest wolf you've ever seen!"

"I know," said the boy softly. He approached the wolf and petted him  
tenderly.

Mousse, obeying his role, climbed frantically up the unanchored ladder to  
the loft. "Kami-sama, I did not see what I saw; I do not believe what I  
believe...yare yare... Maybe I'm dreaming. But my eyes are open. So, maybe  
I'm awake, dreaming that I'm asleep, or; more likely, I'm asleep, dreaming  
that I'm awake, wondering if I'm dreaming."

The boy's voice floated back to him. "You are dreaming. And you muffed  
your lines, Mousse."

Mousse poked his head from between the poles supporting the thatch roof and  
shouted down at the Lost Boy. "You shut up, Ryoga!"

"Mousse!!" wailed the Author. "I was gonna save that for later! Rats..."

"Whatever," said Ryoga d'Anjou, frolicking with the wolf.

In the morning, Navarre, his hawk, and Mousse rode onward. Ryoga was  
nowhere to be found. *Probably got lost again,* Mousse thought irritably to  
himself.

\----~\0/~---

"We'll stop now," said Navarre, as the afternoon fog turned to drizzle.  
"It's not a good day for travelling." Mousse and Ranma hid themselves in  
the recesses of their hoods, glad for the crossover conventions being used  
in this particular fic. The hawk, hooded and jessed, was restive on  
Navarre's fist, then settled as Navarre himself settled more comfortably  
into the tree roots of their meager shelter.

"I could use some sleep, myself," Mousse said, curled up between Goliath's  
feet and another tree. "After last night's goings on." He'd tried to tell  
the Captain about it, but Navarre seemed completely indifferent to his  
harrowing tale of the woodcutter's death. *In for a yen...* "That wolf  
could have killed me, but it tore out the farmer's throat and left me  
alone." Navarre ignored him. "And there was more." He paused for effect.  
"There was a bishounen. With skin like fine porcelain, and the eyes of a  
dove..."

Navarre sat up a little, looking at him piercingly now.

"And his voice, the dulcet tones of an angel... You gotta be kidding..."

"Mousse..." Mousse looked up at the Author and flinched slightly.

Navarre's eyes widened. "He spoke??"

Mousse nodded. "I asked him if I was dreaming. He said I was. I'm not  
insane! You must believe me when I tell you-"

"Oh, I do believe you," Navarre said, with a subtle intensity that made the  
hair on Mousse's neck stand up. Either that or it was just the cold. "I  
believe in dreams. Tell me, this bishounen; did he have a name?"

"Not that he mentioned. Why?"

"You already blew that part," the Author muttered sulkily.

"Well," said Ranma, ignoring her, "if I should meet that bishounen in my  
dreams, wouldn't it be nice...if I could call him by name...and pretend that  
we'd met before..." He shifted again, sitting back with a bitter smile.  
"I've waited a long time...to meet such a bishounen..."

Mousse blinked, nonplussed.

"Now, get some sleep," Navarre said, pulling his hood down over his face.  
"The bird will alert us if anyone comes."

Mousse stared at him, then jumped as Goliath shifted his weight, almost  
kicking him with one forehoof. Mousse petted the velvety black leg  
soothingly, secretly enjoying what Shampoo would send him into LEO for under  
ordinary circumstances. "I gotta be out of my mind," he said quietly to  
himself. "Out of my mind."

Back in Aquila:

The Bishop looked up from his just-served tea. Kasumi put the tray down  
with perfectly serene grace and beamed at Soun Marquet as he shambled into  
the courtyard.

Marquet flinched. "My apologies, Your Grace."

"Have you found the criminal Gaston?"

"He is not in my custody at this time."

"Then why do you come here, unshaven, unwashed?"

Marquet looked up. "Navarre has returned."

Bishop Genma froze, only his eyes bugging out behind his little glasses as a  
sweatdrop of monumental proportions broke out on his mitered head. "Walk  
with me."

Marquet followed. As they got out of earshot of the Bishop's attendants,  
His Grace began to rant. "There should be a hawk. A...spirited hawk. This  
hawk is not to be harmed, is that understood? You see the day that she dies  
a new Captain of the Guard will preside at your hanging."

"B-b-b-b-but.. that's not fair!" Soun blubbered.

"We live in difficult times, Marquet," the Bishop continued determinedly.  
"This famine has prevented the people from offering their proper tribute to  
the Church. I raise their taxes, only to be told there is nothing left for  
me to tax. Imagine!"

"Anou..." said Soun.

Genma changed the subject hastily. "Last night, Kami-sama visited me in a  
dream. He told me Satan's messenger was among us. And his name...was Ranma  
of Navarre."

"Whose name was...? Kami or the messenger...uh, never mind."

"Go," said the Bishop. "To break faith with me is to break faith with Him."

Soun slunk away. The Bishop turned to his secretary, who appeared out of  
nowhere. "Sasuke, fetch me Cezar."

"Yes, Your Worship!" the little ninja said, happily groveling.

WHUNK! ...WHUNK! ...WHUNK! ...WH-

Mousse knew better, and he really hated to do this to such a nice sword, but  
it was in the script. So he was glad when a black gauntleted hand stopped  
him before he could take another swing at the woodpile.

"This sword," said Navarre, "has never known defeat. Until now." Navarre  
took the longsword and showed Mousse the hilt and crosspieces. "It has been  
in my family for five generations. This gem represents my family name.  
This, our alliance with the Holy Church in Rome. This...was my father's.  
And this..." Here he flipped the sword over and showed a blank setting.

"Oh, sir, you don't think that I-" Mousse protested.

Navarre shook his head. "No. This is for me to fill. Each generation is  
called upon to fulfill a mission."

Mousse grimaced. "And...what is your mission?"

"I must kill a man." Ranma's blue eyes were focused far away.

Mousse grinned and scratched the side of his face. "Tell me, does this  
walking dead man have a name?"

Navarre looked back at Mousse. "His Holiness, the Bishop of Aquila."

Mousse choked and sweatdropped. "Well! Well, you must be very busy then.  
I shouldn't take up any more of your time..."

"Wait! I need you to guide me into Aquila."

"Not for the life of my mother," Mousse assured him. "Even if I knew who  
she was. Oh, man, they'd kill me back home for a line like that..."

"Relax, man," Ranma muttered at him. "It's just a fic."

"Ok, ok. Where was I? Oh, yeah, something like, you saved my life, and the  
truth is I can never repay you. The truth is it was a miracle I escaped; I  
fell down a hole and followed my nose!"

Ranma just smiled at him. "I have been waiting two years for a sign from  
Kami-sama. When I heard the alarm bells of Aquila ringing, I knew my time  
had come. You-" he put an arm around Mousse's shoulders, "-will be my  
guiding angel."

"You've flipped, Ranma," Mousse said, shrugging him off.

"I already know you have wings," Ranma smirked.

"Ranma!! Mousse!! Knock it off, BOTH of you!!!" the Author hollered. To  
no avail. "Fine. Grr. Well, what was SUPPOSED to happen was Mousse  
starts to walk off anyway, after some line about Navarre wouldn't kill him  
for being what he is and that great line about 'I talk to Kami-sama all the  
time, and no offense, but He never mentioned you'. Navarre THROWS that  
big-ass longsword, which imbeds a good foot into a tree right beside Mousse.  
Mousse reaches out, in shock, and stops the oscillating of the sword, turns  
back and says, 'I think I'll gather more firewood.' End of scene."

When next we see our heroes in character, ahem, it is night, and Mousse has  
been tied with his hands behind a tree. Which in some ways looks kind of  
comfortable and might be of use in other fics... Anyway, Ryoga has  
reappeared, wearing a really flattering, if makeshift, costume, and is  
chasing a rabbit for his dinner. No, wait, this is Ryoga; it should be  
a...a bear or an elk or something...

"My L- Wait, I wasn't going to have to call him that. Uh, bish-san?"

Ryoga looked up to find the bound Mousse. The bear, knowing an opening when  
it saw one, got away. "Oh, oh damn!" Ryoga sighed and ran a slender but  
strong hand through his glossy hair. "I guess it's ramen again tonight."

"Bish-san," Mousse said again.

Ryoga looked up at him again. "What are you doing up there?"

"What am I doing? Good question. Uhh, the Bishop's men attacked, there was  
a terrible fight...uh..."

"Why didn't they kill you?"

"Why didn't they? Uh, well, I asked them that myself, and they said they  
were saving me for the Bishop..."

"Really? I didn't know his censer swung that direction. I shouldn't be  
surprised, though, I guess..."

"Ryoga!!!" Mousse thrashed a bit, wanting to thrash the Lost Boy, but Ranma  
must have competed in some kind of Anything Goes Martial Arts Knot Tying  
contest at some point. [Actually, there *is* a Japanese binding/knot tying  
thing in martial arts, but I didn't go to that class in jujitsu, so I don't  
remember what it's called...] Mousse got himself calmed down enough to  
recall his lines. "Please, bish-san? A giant owl examined me quite closely  
not five minutes ago. Please? Please?"

Mousse is really, REALLY cute when he wants to be...^_^

Ryoga sighed, completely taken in by those lovely teal eyes, even behind  
glasses, and that long, shimmering, black hair. He slipped his knife under  
the cords and cut Mousse free. A wolf howled in the near distance. Ryoga  
turned toward the sound, grief and longing washing undisguised over his  
beautiful face. "Listen, we should..." He looked back to the other boy,  
but Mousse was gone.

"Farewell, bish-san!" Mousse called back as he ran. "Thank you, and tell  
the Captain he ties a wicked knot!"

Ryoga leaned against the tree. "Damn. He's gonna kill me."

The next day, Mousse was ambling along, (knowing Ryoga at least would never  
find him) not bothering any of the sheep that dotted the hills around him -  
really he wasn't - when a squad of the Bishop's men pounced on him and  
captured him again.

"This is ridiculous!" Mousse protested. "I'm not helpless, you know!"

"We know," said Second Assistant Under-Sergeant Jehan. "But we've been  
instructed to splash you with really cold water if you don't behave."

"Oh hell," said Mousse.

"Where is Navarre?" one of the other guards asked him.

"Navarre? Pigtailed boy on a big black horse? Haven't seen him."

One of the guards holding him pressed his sword a little deeper against  
Mousse's throat. "Ah! Ah! He's headed south! Toward Aquila!"

The guard who'd asked the question chuckled. "The we ride north."

Mousse glared at him. "It's not polite to assume someone is lying when  
you've only just met them."

"And yet you knew we would," said Jehan, not as dumb as he looked. "We ride  
south."

"But...but, I told the truth, Kami-sama!" Mousse protested as they dragged  
him away, looking reproachfully up at the sky. "How am I supposed to learn  
any moral lessons if You keep confusing me like this??"

Navarre rode onward, the hawk on his fist. He didn't care that Mousse had  
left him; he would get into Aquila one way or another. *I never lose,* he  
thought grimly to himself.

Mousse, tied up again and gagged, watched Navarre ride into ambush, and had  
to do something. Besides, the gag tasted horrible, and he was really tired  
of being tied up. Well, tied up without being asked first, anyway. He  
managed to unwind the ropes on his hands enough to bring his arms around  
over his shoulders so his hands were in front of him, and began working on  
getting the gag off. The guard on whose horse Mousse was riding pillion,  
turned and tried to cuff him to stop him, but Mousse dodged and fell off,  
and all this made just enough noise that Goliath whickered warningly and  
Navarre sent the hawk aloft and drew his loaded crossbow.

"Fire!" Jehan shouted, his ambush ruined, but he was determined to make the  
best of it anyway. Soun and Genma would kill him themselves if he didn't.  
His men fired their crossbows. More fighting. In this round, Navarre was  
hit in the shoulder with an arrow, soon followed by the hawk, struck in the  
same place. Navarre pulled the arrow out of his own shoulder - ow - and  
used it to stab one of the guards. He killed almost all of them; I think  
only one or maybe two had the chance to run away after the hawk was hit,  
because Navarre was significantly upset by that time. Jehan might have been  
one of them, but I don't remember.

Anyway, Navarre and Mousse were left with the downed hawk. Navarre thrust  
his sword into the ground and crept up to the injured bird carefully.  
"No...oh no... You'll be all right... It'll be all right. Quick, Mousse!  
Bring me a cloth from my saddlebags!"

Mousse did as bidden and brought him a bit of homespun. Navarre wrapped the  
skreeling bird gently and picked it up. He turned to Mousse. "You must  
take him. Down that road there is a ruined castle. There is an old monk  
there, Imperius. Tell him the hawk belongs to me; he will know what to do."

"But sir, the poor thing is done for," Mousse protested.

Navarre grabbed him by the tunic and shook him. "Don't you say that!!" He  
calmed himself with some difficulty. "Take my horse, hurry."

"But you're the only one who can ride him!" Mousse protested again, rather  
feebly this time; he was looking forward to this. Shampoo glared at him.

"You will do as I say," Navarre said, helping him mount the great black  
stallion. The set of Shampoo's ears warned Mousse not to try anything  
funny; just because he was now getting to ride her... Mousse grinned  
despite himself and took the wounded bird carefully into his arms. He  
didn't need to 'try anything'; she was already between his legs, that made  
him happy enough.

"Go!" said Navarre, pale and drawn, slapping Goliath's flank. The stallion  
broke into a remarkably smooth canter, so as not to jar the bird.

Left alone, Navarre felt the blood from his shoulder running down inside his  
clothes. He knelt by his inverted sword and clasped his hands in prayer.  
"Please."

Mousse reached the ruined castle near sunset. "Hello!" he called up to the  
parapet; the wooden door that would open outward which was the only way he  
could find to get in to the place was closed. "I say, hello!"

Someone hopped to the edge of the rickety railing. "Whaddyawant!??" a  
familiar, but drink-sodden voice bellowed down.

"Urk!" Mousse said. "A 'monk'??? He said...a...*monk*! Uh, I was told to  
bring you this bird. She's been wounded."

"Wha? Oh, good shot! Bring it up, we'll dine together!"

"Father! (Oh help, I can't believe I said that, I am so dead when this is  
over...) We can't eat this bird!"

"Wh-why not? Oh, Kami-sama, is it Lent again already?" Imperious sounded  
rather put out.

"No no!" Mousse assured the hermit. "This bird belongs to Ranma of  
Navarre!"

Cologne's already bulgy eyes bugged out even further. "Mother of God.  
Bring him up! Bring him up quickly!" With a strength surprising in her  
withered little arms [unless one knew her], Cologne worked the winch that  
opened the door. [To the winch, wench!] Goliath navigated the narrow  
portal easily.

Imperius looked the bird over as Mousse dismounted. "Bring her," she told  
him. "This way, hurry." As they approached a weathered but sturdy-looking  
bridge across what was once a moat, Imperius directed him urgently, "On the  
left, stay on the left."

Imperius brought him to a firelit chamber and had him settle the bird on a  
wide nest of blankets and furs that Mousse guessed was the monk's own bed.  
"Now, get out," Imperius said, shoving Mousse unceremoniously out the door  
and barring and locking it behind them. The monk grabbed an old basket and  
went hopping away on her staff, muttering about herbs into the dusk. Mousse  
stared after her for a moment and shuddered. Then, as the sun set, he  
turned his attention to the lock.

After not too much mayhem, he had it open and stepped inside. On the bed  
lay Ryoga, even paler than before, with an arrow sticking out of his  
shoulder.

The two boys stared at each other for a moment. "Are you flesh?" Mousse  
half-whispered. "Or are you spirit?"

"I am sorrow," Ryoga answered, turning his head away, freeing Mousse from  
his dark, birdlike gaze. "Navarre...is he...?"

"He'll be fine, bish-san. There was a terrible battle," Mousse said,  
compelled to go on. "Navarre fought like a dragon. The bird...was  
struck...but, you...know that, don't you."

Ryoga touched the arrow, then let his hand fall.

Imperius came in. "How did you--?" he began, then Cologne whacked Mousse  
with her staff, sending him flying out the door. "And STAY out, this time!"  
she yelled after him. Mousse just sat for a while with his back to part of  
a stone wall, watching all the little ducklings quacking around his head...

In Aquila, Bishop Genma was wracked by a terrible nightmare.

Outside the ruined castle, a wolf howled in anguish.

In the dim chamber, Imperius dabbed the pasty mixture of herbs onto the  
wound, and grasped the arrow firmly. "This is really going to hurt, boy,"  
said Cologne. "Take it." Ryoga put his hands over hers, and she yanked the  
arrow out.

Ryoga screamed. The wolf howled. The Bishop leapt awake, screaming.  
Mousse started.

In Aquila, Sasuke spoke gently to the Bishop. "Your Grace, Cezar is here."

Genma regained his composure at once.

Dressed in something more authoritative than his nightgown, the Bishop went  
down to meet the one he had called for.

She stood in a torchlit antechamber, a pile of wolf-pelts arranged on a  
nearby table. Wolf teeth made into a necklace adorned her throat. She  
grinned ferally at the Bishop from under masses of unruly black hair, a  
black rose clenched in her teeth.

Mousse sat on a terraced step of stone, staring into the bonfire with  
Imperius. Outside the wolf howled. "It's him, isn't it?" Mousse asked,  
part of him not wanting it to be true. "The wolf. Somehow it's him." *No  
turning into a girl this time. Well, a wolf is better than a duck, I guess.  
Or a pig.*

"Drink," said Imperius, filling his mug with more crude wine. "Forget."

"You were drunk an hour ago and you remembered," Mousse answered. He took  
the flagon and filled the old ghoul, I mean the priest's mug too.

"His name," said Imperius finally, with a sigh, "is Ryoga d'Anjou. His  
father, the Compte d'Anjou was an intemperate fellow; died slaughtering  
infidels in Antioch. He came to a cousin, I think, in Aquila. I'll never  
forget the day I first saw him. It was like...." The priest fumbled for a  
suitable comparison.

"Like looking into the face of love," Mousse supplied dreamily. He winked  
at Cologne, who chuckled.

"Don't knock it, sonny," the old ghoul said, grinning. "He's mighty cute;  
not as handsome as my future son-in-law maybe, but..."

"All right, all right, get on with it; you missed your line."

"Right. Ahhh, you too. Well, we were all in love with him in one way or  
another. Even His...ahem, Holiness, the Bishop."

"The Bishop loved him? Eew, that's gross."

"As near to love as that evil man could get. But Ryoga sensed his dark ki  
and shrank from him. Sent back his letters unopened, his poems unread. For  
his heart had already been lost to the Captain of the Guard."

"Ranma Navarre." Mousse nodded. Now a lot of things were making more  
sense.

'Yes," Cologne continued. "That boy has more people in love with him...  
Anyway. Every day their love grew stronger, deeper. Until..."

"Until?" The priest seemed reluctant to go on, but Mousse wanted the whole  
story now.

"Until they were betrayed. They shared the same confessor, a weak and  
foolish priest. In drunken confession to his superior, he committed a  
mortal sin by revealing their mutual vows of love. I did not realize at  
first what I had done! I did not know what terrible vengeance the Bishop  
would take."

Mousse's glasses were fogging up, so he took them off to wipe them. Cologne  
threw another log on the fire, making sparks fly angrily. "The Bishop  
seemed to go mad. He lost both his sanctity and his reason. He swore that  
if he could not have Ryoga, no man would. The lovers escaped Aquila but the  
Bishop followed, like a hound, never more than an hour behind. Until at  
last, half-mad with fury and frustration, the Bishop called upon the powers  
of darkness."

"Happosai?" Mousse asked, in a frightened whisper.

Outside, the wolf howled.

Imperius nodded. "For a means to damn the lovers, Happosai spat up a  
terrible curse. So, by day, Ryoga is the beautiful bird, and by night, the  
voice of the wolf..."

"Is the cry of Navarre," Mousse finished.

"Poor, dumb creatures with no memory of their human half-lives. Never  
touching in the flesh; only the anguish of one brief moment at sunrise and  
sunset when they can *almost* touch, but not quite."

"Always together, eternally apart," said Mousse, well into the romance of  
the thing now.

"For as long as the sun shall rise and set. For as long as there is night  
and day. For the rest of their natural lives."

"That sucks," said Mousse. But it was kinda cool, too.

"You have stumbled onto a tragic story, little thief, and now, like the rest  
of us, you are a part of it."

In Aquila: The Bishop peeled through the piled wolf-pelts with the  
razor-sharp blade concealed in the toe of his staff. "Useless, all of  
them." He rounded on Cezar.

"My traps are full," she replied, taking the black rose out of her mouth and  
twirling it between delicate-seeming fingers. "Since the plague, there are  
more wolves than men...OOOOOOOOOOOOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHO!!!" She laughed  
behind her hand until Genma glared at her.

The Bishop recapped his staff and thought about the problem. "There will be  
a bishounen."

"Your Grace?"

"A beautiful bishounen. With alabaster skin and the eyes of a dove. He  
travels by night, only by night, his sun is the moon. And his name  
is...Ryoga."

"What? You mean my Ranma-darling isn't-"

Genma cut her off. "Find him and you find the wolf. A BLACK wolf. The  
wolf I want. The wolf who... loves him."

"What ever, old man," Cezar said, and, running off with a sudden costume  
change to a dark leotard and flinging black rose petals in her wake, she  
left the pelts and the echoes of her maniacal laughter behind.

Much later that night, a while before dawn. Mousse sat watching Ryoga  
sleep. After a time, Ryoga stirred, opened his deep, deep eyes, tried to  
sit up. Mousse leaned over to stop him gently. "Don't. You'll reopen your  
wound." Though with the arrow out, it was healing rapidly already.

"Tell me your name," Ryoga said weakly.

"Phillipe Gaston. But most people call me Mousse."

"You travel with him, don't you."

Mousse nodded. "'You must save this hawk,' he told me. 'For he is my life.  
My last and best reason for living.'"

"Ranma said that."

"I know it sounds implausible, just hear me out. And then he said, 'One day  
we will know such happiness as two people dream of, but never do.' Is there  
something odd about that grammar?"

"I dunno, English is a weird language." Ryoga started to shrug, but thought  
better of it.

"Well, anyway," Mousse began, but Ryoga was asleep again.

Mousse joined Imperius back by the bonfire. "Does Ryoga know? That you  
were the priest who betrayed them?"

"Nothing like tact, eh, boy?" Cologne commented, chucking another log into  
the fire. "Kami-sama has declared an end to it at last! He has given me  
the knowledge to undo what I have done."

"Make yourself clear, if you can," Mousse said, grinning at the chance to  
snipe at the old ghoul with impunity; it was part of the script, after all.

"Kami-sama has granted me a vision; a time for Ranma to confront the Bishop,  
so that he and Ryoga can be free at last!"

"Oh, he intends to confront the Bishop, all right," Mousse said. "He  
intends to kill him with the sword of his ancestors." A bit weird in this  
case, since Genma was technically Ranma's father...oh my, what a mess.

"No!" said Imperius. "He mustn't do that. If he kills the Bishop the curse  
can never be broken!"

They were interrupted by a ruckus down at the front gate-door. "They've  
found us," Imperius said, leaping to her staff. "Mousse, take care of  
Ryoga!"

Mousse dashed off, hoping the Lost Boy hadn't gotten up and gone in search  
of the privy.

Imperius hopped to the outer parapet and looked down. "What's wrong with  
you boys?? Can't you see what time it is? I need my beauty sleep, you  
know."

"In the worst way," said one of the Bishop's men behind his hand.

"Open up in the name of the Bishop!" their leader shouted.

"I've met the Bishop, you blasphemous lout!" Imperius hollered back. "And  
you don't look a thing like him!"

"Break it in," said the leader.

Meanwhile, Mousse got Ryoga up, and the two scrambled to find a hiding  
place. Ryoga was in no shape for a real fight at the moment, and Mousse was  
going along with the plot.

The Bishop's men broke in easily; the door was old and in poor repair. As  
they swarmed inside and began to search the place, Imperius hopped to get  
out of the way, stopping to sit down on the left side of the entrance to the  
bridge over the moat. "Kami-sama go with you, my son," Imperius said to a  
guardsman as he approached and stepped onto the bridge. "And always  
remember..."

The guardsman stode determinedly across...

And fell through the rotted boards into the moat, where the weight of his  
armor probably drowned him; another cursed spring in the making.

"Walk on the LEFT side!" Imperius enunciated clearly. "Sorry, I'm a  
priest, dammit, not an architect!" Another guard came from behind and  
bopped Imperius on the head with the hilt of his sword. Cologne, if only  
for the story's sake, for she surely could have messed that guard up, and he  
was 300 years too late to sneak up on her anyway, fell over and closed her  
eyes.

Climbing one of those wretched, high-risered stairways that were meant to  
make men in plate mail remove their knee guards so the defenders could shoot  
them in the hamstrings, a guard looked up through the growing light of  
predawn and caught sight of Mousse and Ryoga skittering into a tower. "Oi!  
Here! Here!" he shouted, to bring the others.

Mousse and Ryoga scrambled awkwardly up the spiral stairs inside the tower.  
At the top was a wooden roof and trapdoor. Mousse thought this was a stupid  
idea, treeing themselves like this, but... As one of the guards tried to  
come up behind them through the trapdoor, Mousse jumped on it, sending the  
guard tumbling down the stairs, but another came up and shoved upward on the  
door. Mousse managed to keep him from getting up through the door all the  
way, and the door shut and locked sort of, with a chain lock. The guard  
slammed the door upward again; not getting it open all the way, but knocking  
Mousse off and into Ryoga. The low parapet of the rotting tower crumbled  
and gave, and Ryoga slid out into thin air, Mousse just barely catching him  
by one arm; the wounded side of course. Ryoga hung there, gritting his  
teeth in pain, his hand and Mousse's both slick with anxious sweat.

"Don't drop me..." Ryoga pleaded. It was at least 200 feet down, the tower  
stood at the edge of the cliff that was part of the castle's defense. Ryoga  
was pretty sure even he might not survive a fall like that.

"Damn, you're heavy!" Mousse gritted back. Even holding on with both hands,  
he could feel his grip slipping, and the part of the wall he was leaning  
over was none too stable either. "Ryoga..."

Ryoga looked up at him with sudden calm. "Mousse. Save yourself." And he  
let go.

Mousse scrabbled at his hand. "Ryoga! Noooooo!! That's not in the script!  
You baka..." Ryoga smiled up at him as he fell, his tunic billowing around  
him as the sun crested blindingly over the hills, and in a flash of wind and  
feathers, Ryoga was gone, winging away over the ruins, skreeling at the  
ground.

Mousse clutched his chest, panting. "W-what does he think he's dong? This  
is a western film, not anime! Baka!" The guard was still battering at the  
trapdoor. Mousse made himself scarce.

When the guard finally broke through, he found the top of the tower empty.  
But he knew this Mousse Gaston was tricky, so he looked over the edge of the  
parapet... and there was Mousse, perched on the head of a gargoyle [not  
Goliath, calm down ^_^]. "Where's the bish!?!" snarled the guard.

"The beef? Oh, the bish. He...he flew away."

The guard raised his sword. Mousse put his arms over his head and leaned  
away as much as possible, but he didn't have a lot of maneuvering room.  
"Kami-sama's truth! He flew away!!"

THHHHHHHHHHUMP!!

A crossbow quarrel sprouted from the guard's chest. The man made no sound  
as he fell, bouncing a couple of times at the bottom...

Mousse looked up and saw Navarre, standing on a peak of the mountain not too  
far away, double crossbow still cocked and ready again if need be. Mousse  
grinned and nodded, saluting the Captain jauntily. "Always tell the truth.  
Thank you, Kami-sama, I see that now..."

Navarre rode up the rock-strewn path, the hawk on his fist. He wasn't  
thrilled to see Imperius again. "I thought you might've been dead, old  
ghoul. There were times I wanted to kill you myself." Ranma looked at the  
bird on his wrist. "But I'm very grateful. For this."

Cologne hopped on her staff down to meet him. Mousse, having extricated  
himself from the tower, hid behind a corner, hoping for some action. "No,"  
said Imperius. "It is I who am grateful. For the chance to save you and  
Ryoga. Kami-sama has shown me a way for the curse to be broken!"

"This better not be like those three damned pots," Ranma growled  
dangerously.

"That wasn't my fault," said Cologne, rather testily. "Anyway. Three days  
hence, in Aquila, the Bishop will hear the confessions of the clergy. You  
have only to confront him, both of you; as man and man and the curse will be  
confounded - broken!"

"Impossible," Navarre said coldly.

"As long as there is night and day, no. But three days hence, in Aquila,  
there will be a day without a night, and a night without a day."

Ranma's lip curled. "Go back inside, old ghoul. Go back to your  
ramen...er, drink. Whatever."

"You think I'm drunk!??" Cologne shouted. Ranma tensed. But the old Amazon  
kept her control and kept to the script. "Kami-sama has shown me! He has  
forgiven me!"

"He hasn't forgiven you, old ghoul. He's made you mad." Ranma turned  
Goliath to go. Cologne stared after him in irritation. Mousse skittered  
out of hiding, skipping carefully over the bridge with the gaping hole now  
in the center.

"Don't worry, obaasan," he said, as he passed Cologne. "Sir? Oh, sir?" He  
caught up with Navarre and perched gracefully on a lichen-spotted boulder.

Ranma stopped and looked at him. "I am in your debt."

"Me sir? Not at all, sir. He wanted me to deliver a message. To say he  
still has hope...faith. In you."

Ranma ducked his head, his eyes hidden by unruly black bangs. "You're free  
to go," he said gruffly.

"I know that, sir."

"Do as you like."

"Yes, sir." Mousse scratched the corner of his mouth with a forefinger.  
"Then you and Ladyhawke will be continuing on to Aquila?"

"Ladyhawke?"

"Look, I'm sorry, but Bishhawke is just too weird. And Bishounenhawke too  
long, and Lordhawke doesn't have the right ring to it..."

"Okay, okay, I get it already! Jeeze!" Ranma smirked and continued with  
his dialog. "Yes. To Aquila."

Mousse grinned, then looked around nonchalantly. "Weeell, it just so  
happens...I'm heading in that direction myself..."

"You'd better get your things..."

"What things??" Mousse flapped his capacious sleeves innocently.

"Yeah, right," said Ranma. "Yosh! Iku!"

Mousse waved back at Cologne, and mouthed *follow us!* at her. Cologne  
ignored them; she already knew what to do.

~~~+###+~~~

After a long morning and midday and most of the afternoon spent jogging  
behind Navarre, who as ever rode Goliath; Mousse was getting a little vexed.  
"How come I didn't grab one of the guards' horses? Why can't I ride with  
you? And if the priest is right, what difference does one day matter?"

"Because it's not in the script," said Ranma. "And you're a lousy horseman  
anyway - whereas I, of course, have a natural affinity for horses-"

"For horses' arses, you mean," Mousse muttered.

"--And you are not to mention that again. Not to me, and not to him!"  
Ranma turned backwards in the saddle. "And I'm gonna 'horses' arse' *you*  
in a minute!"

"Promises, promises..."

Ahem. Anyway, as the day draws to a close, a big thunderstorm moves in, and  
our heroes seek shelter for the night. Ranma dismounts and gives Goliath's  
reins and the hawk over to Mousse. "Go on. The sun is going down."

Mousse looked up at the roiling, gloomy sky. "How can you tell?"

Ranma handed him his cloak. "After so many sunsets...?"

"Oh."

"Tell him I love him..."

Ranma ran off into the woods, and Mousse hurried along a road to an inn  
where he found a stable to hide in as it began to rain. Once he'd seen to  
Goliath's needs, he watched the tiercel hawk preening on his makeshift  
perch. "Can you understand me, Ladyhawke?" The hawk blinked at the sound  
of his voice, but otherwise ignored him. "You know, it's my favorite thing  
for dinner, hawk. I've killed hundreds of 'em." Still nothing. "Pigs too.  
Bacon. Pork loin...sausages, pork buns..." The hawk yawned and resumed  
preening. "Akane's cooking sucks. She's a horse-faced buffoon next to my  
beloved Shampoo." Nothing. Mousse shivered in his damp clothes. "Uh, wait  
here," he said. "I'll be right back."

Mousse went out to steal more [somehow dry] clothes and came back in to  
change, finding a naked Ryoga doing the same thing.  
Mousse thought desperately. "Bish-san?"

Ryoga pulled a tunic over his head and leaned around the post of Goliath's  
stall. "Ah. There you are, little Mousse." He stroked Goliath's neck  
fondly. Mousse bristled. "How is he?"

Mousse relaxed. "Alive. Like you. Full of hope, like you."

"He's taking us back to Aquila, isn't he."

"Yes. And I'm glad it's him leading and not you, or we'd end up in  
Hokkaido..."

Ryoga grinned despite himself.

"He left you in my charge," Mousse said, gesturing at Navarre's sword,  
propped up with the rest of their gear. "He said, 'Tell him we two speak as  
one, and he will follow your instructions as my own.'"

"Oh really?" Ryoga said, baring his fangs. He moved closer to the  
hidden-weapons martial artist. Mousse made a surreptitious warding gesture.  
"And what do you...recommend?"

Mousse swallowed hard. "I...recommend... that you sit by a warm fire.  
Drink a cup of sweet sake, and dance to bright music, cheerfully played."  
He gestured toward the inn.

Ryoga laughed and crossed his arms over his chest. "Dance?"

"Why not? You taught Akane rhythmic gymnastics; how much different can it  
be?" Mousse knew there was to be a practice run here, but he wasn't going  
to trust his supposed chivalry that much at this point. This was a yaoi  
fic, after all. He picked up Navarre's sword and a horse blanket, draping  
it over them both as they headed for the door to the inn-yard.

"So, you're to be my protector as well," Ryoga commented with a smirk. He  
himself could lift that sword easily, but Mousse was apparently having some  
difficulty with it.

"Actually," said Mousse, "the truth is, he'll kill me if I lose it..."

Under the blanket, the two boys rushed out into the rain, making for the  
laughter and warmth of the taproom. But halfway across the yard they  
slithered to a stop in the mud as a pair of horses lurched suddenly into  
their path; the second, pack animal bearing a heap of bloody wolf pelts.

Ryoga screamed, and tore at his own hair. Mousse tried to calm the  
hysterical Lost Boy, tried to turn him away from the grisly sight, but Ryoga  
kept screaming. "Ryoga! Ryoga, get a grip!"

The rider of the first horse gazed down at them and smiled; a smile that  
struck terror into the hearts of strong men. "Ryoga?" Cezar plucked a  
black rose out of nowhere and put it to her nose delicately. "Ryoga..."

Mousse awkwardly drew Navarre's sword. "Lay a hand on him and you'll find  
it on the ground next to your head! Now ride on!"

Kodachi laughed. "Easy, little man, you're frightening me."

"Are you deaf?" Mousse brandished the weapon, unnerved by that laugh. "I  
said ride on!"

Cezar did so, laughing all the way. Several panes of the inn's windows  
shattered.

Mousse let the sword's point drop and looked around for Ryoga. Then Goliath thundered out of the barn,  
Ryoga astride him, riding furiously off into the woods. Mousse ran after,  
hopelessly, praying that Shampoo would keep Ryoga on track... "He'll kill  
me. He'll kill me..."

In the rain-lashed forest, lightning strobing through the air, Ryoga rode  
after Cezar. Catching sight of the pack-horse in a clearing, Ryoga  
dismounted, drawing a slender knife, hunting the hunter.

Not far away, Cezar set her traps, steel spiked teeth gleaming wetly in the  
flashes of lightning. She hid them with fallen leaves, then began her own  
stalking dance with the Lost Boy, drawing him into her circle, drawing the  
wolf that was bound to him.

Tossed stones triggered the traps - one! two! three!, further preying on  
Ryoga's already fragile nerves. "Show yourself, coward!" Ryoga shouted.  
Somewhere a wolf growled.

There was a SNAP and a lupine yelp of mortal pain. Cezar leapt to the trap;  
a lovely grey pelt to add to her pile, well, hadn't she said there were more  
wolves than men? "My beauty," she murmured, resetting the trap once the  
dead animal was pulled free. Ryoga rose up behind her, dagger raised, eyes  
wild. A sudden growl and both humans turned.

"Ranma!" Ryoga cried low in his throat; the enormous black wolf bared bright  
fangs at Cezar. Cezar drew her ribbon, poised to strike; Ryoga gave her a  
shove toward the open trap...

And the ficwriter, chickening out at the *last* minute, instead of having  
Kodachi end up face-first in the steel trap, has her fall, entangled by her  
own ribbon, shrieking at the unfairness of it all, while Lost Boy and wolf  
leave her to a wet miserable night alone in a wolf-ridden forest with the  
lightning crashing and the rain coming down like arrows and the thunder  
shaking the pillars of heaven, and whoever cares to can use their own  
imagination about what happens to her after that, because this is the last  
of her in this fic...^_^

Whew! Anyway, Mousse catches up to them just in time to see them leave the  
screeching Kodachi, and he sighs with relief.

Some time later, and a segue to Cologne, who is following in a rickety cart,  
drawn by a donkey who is still named Abraham since I don't know what a  
really amusing counterpart name would be in Japanese. "Oh do get on,  
Abraham," Cologne wheedled. "It's going to snow soon..."

And snow it does, as we see Ranma using his Katchu Tenshin Amaguriken to  
first break an opening in the ice of a stream, then catch several fish for  
breakfast. Mousse was still asleep, since his nights were spent awake,  
trying to keep Ryoga company - and keeping Ryoga from sinking into despair  
is a full-time job in itself. Mousse finally sat up and stretched, yawning.  
The hawk, winging in from his own hunt, landed on his arm.

Navarre put down his own wrist, automatically raised to accept the bird as  
always, but not this time. Mousse's eyes were huge. "Nice bird," he  
tremored, shaking his arm up and down. "Good little hawk... go to your  
master...go on, Ladyhawke..."

"Last night," said Navarre. "What happened?"

"Nothing I couldn't handle, Captain..."

"Tell me about it."

"What's to tell? Go on, now! Go go go! Fly to your master, fly to the one  
you love!" The bird reluctantly hopped over to Navarre's gauntlet. "We ran  
into a little trouble on our way to an inn..."

"You took Ryoga to an inn??"

"Well, first we had to go to a stable..."

"What were you doing in a stable?"

"We changed clothes and-"

"You changed clothes!"

"Hey! We're both guys!"

"Oh, so should I be asking what you were doing with Goliath/Shampoo, then?"

Mousse bristled with sharp implements. "Prepare to-eep!"

"RANMA, STOP TEASING MOUSSE! MOUSSE, STOP ENCOURAGING RANMA!" The  
authorial head-of-flaming-death appeared briefly in the sky, then went away  
when the boys cowered appropriately. Ranma floundered for a moment, then  
picked up a randomly strewn bit of dialog. "Every moment you spend with him  
I envy you. But you can tell me what he said. *Everything* he said; and I  
warn you, I will know if the words are his."

Mousse dusted himself off, his weapons once again hidden. "He was sad at  
first. He recalled the day you two met...and he cursed it. But then he  
remembered how happy you were together, before the Bishop's curse...and his  
eyes glowed. No, *he* glowed." Mousse looked up at Navarre, complexities  
hiding behind the thick glasses. "He loves you more than life itself. He's  
had to."

Ranma's eyes were hidden again behind his bangs. After a moment he looked  
up. "Did you know hawks and wolves mate for life? He didn't even leave us  
that." Ranma smiled bitterly. "Not even that."

 

Cologne, having caught up to them at last, hops up to the two boys, who are  
breaking camp. "Off to kill the Bishop?" she inquired sarcastically. "Why  
won't you listen to me? In two days time you can face the Bishop in the  
cathedral together and break the curse!"

"I will be in Aquila tomorrow, old ghoul. One way or anther, there will be  
an end to it."

"One day more or less, what could it matter?" said Mousse.

"You, too?" Ranma turned to him. "Stay here, then, with the old ghoul."

"I'm coming with you," Mousse said stubbornly. "How else will you get into  
the cathedral?"

Ranma mounted Goliath, his lips pressed into a cold, flat line. "I *will*  
get in...without your help." He wheeled his mount and rode off without a  
backward glance. Mousse and Cologne watched him go.

"Thank you for trying, boy," said Cologne. Mousse stared, when did she ever  
thank anyone for anything? But this was the script after all. "For  
standing up for the truth."

"I should have known better," said Mousse, walking away, leaving Imperius  
staring after him. "Every happy moment of my life has come from lying."

~~~~~~~

Ryoga finished tying up the laces on his calves, giving them one last good  
tug. A footstep behind him made him start and whirl around. "Oh. There  
you are, little Mousse. Where is my knife? I just had it here, now where  
did I put it..."

"Ryoga."

Ryoga still cast about, almost nervously.

"Ryoga, this may be our last evening together." Mousse licked his dry lips.

"Why?" asked Ryoga, his pale, moonlit face going wary and still.

"There's a chance to break the curse. I didn't want to tell you until I  
believed...*really* believed. We have a plan."

"You and Navarre?"

"No..."

Cologne hopped out from behind a tree.

~~~~~~

Mousse and Cologne dug the pit -easy enough with Cologne using the Bakusai  
Tenketsu- while Ryoga watched for Navarre's approach. As the other two were  
covering their pitfall, a howl resonated and echoed off the mountains.  
Ryoga whirled toward the sound; a different direction than they'd  
anticipated. This could still work...

Ryoga stepped out onto the ice of the frozen lake to meet the wolf, hands  
outstretched slightly in the dimness. But just a few meters from him, the  
ice cracked; the wolf slid under with a yelp, Ryoga cried out and dove  
forward, windmilling his arms as his own footing became unsteady. He  
dropped to his belly to crawl towards the struggling wolf.

Mousse, dragging Navarre's sword with a sturdy rope tied to the crosspiece,  
wormed his way out to join them, sinking the blade in where the ice was  
still firm, as an anchor, tying the rope around his own chest. He tried to  
help a frantic Ryoga pull the wolf to safety, but ended up falling in  
himself. The frenzied animal clawed his way up Mousse's body and so out of  
the icy water, Ryoga catching him and holding him close while Imperius  
hauled the exhausted Mousse in like a large, nearsighted fish, to gasp on  
the snow-covered ice.

"We must live, Father," Ryoga panted, trembling, "as human beings." He  
cradled the wolf but reached out to Mousse's freezing hair as well. "Our  
lives are in your hands..."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Predawn; the sky fading to grey, while the earth below yet lay in its own  
shadow. In the unused pit, Ryoga stirred on the bed of pine boughs, beside  
him the sleeping black form of the wolf.

Mousse had awakened early, his heart drawn to them unwilling, yet unable to  
turn away.

Ryoga opened his eyes slowly, staring at the lightening sky above; then he  
turned, realization quickening his heartbeat and breathing.  
Beside him the wolf, too, stirred, opening dark beast-eyes. Ryoga moved his  
hand on the sleek pelt, watching as the light glanced off his knuckles as he  
flexed it, the fingers already lengthening. He sat up, facing west,  
covering his mouth with that hand, hiding from the sun in the darkness of  
Navarre's cloak. The wolf's coat shimmered as the first golden rays spread  
across the snow like burning mercury, baring Ranma's naked shoulder.

Mousse gasped silently, the breath turning to vapor in his open mouth.

Ranma turned, slow and slow, rising into the light even as Ryoga's  
transparent, glowing fingertips reached out toward his lambent face.  
Ranma's beast-eyes shifted, lightening into their human, steely blue. A  
flash, a blink, Ryoga's eyes turned fierce, raptor-yellow, with the deep  
hawk-pupils; and fingertips almost touched fingertips before one set became  
wings and feathers, exploding upward into the air with a shrill, rending  
cry. Ranma gave an anguished roar, clutching the empty clothes and burying  
his face in the snow.

Mousse jumped, the tears he hadn't noticed freezing on his face. He hurried  
away toward the cart.

Later.

Navarre brought Goliath around the cart, checking the haphazard interior of  
the creaky vehicle once more. Dropping the reins, he stalked towards Mousse  
and Imperius. "Tell me one thing," he said tightly. "Where is my father's  
sword?"

"Gone," said Mousse, trying to remain calm, nonchalant. "It fell beneath  
the ice last night as we crossed the river."

Ranma grabbed his tunic. "Damn you!" he snarled. "That sword was the last  
bit of honor I possessed!"

"There *is* no mission of honor now," Mousse shot back. "The jewel you wish  
to place in the hilt of the sword has only become a symbol of your  
meaningless death! But there's a chance for life now; a new life, with  
him..."

Ranma shook him. "I needed that sword to kill the Bishop."

"Go ahead then, kill the Bishop! Kill yourself! Kill *him* too; you never  
cared as much for him as yourself anyway!"

Ranma snarled and hurled him to the snow. Mousse fell on his side and  
gasped, rolling onto his back in pain, his tunic falling open to reveal the  
long red lines of deep claw-marks crisscrossing his chest.

Ranma froze, staring in numb horror. "What is that?" he demanded of  
Imperius.

Cologne clung to her staff and glowered at him. "That happened last night.  
When he saved your life."

The last of Navarre's rage drained away. "Forgive me..." He helped Mousse  
rise, and embraced him carefully, mindful of his injuries. "Forgive me."  
Mousse let that old Ranma charm work on him and patted the Captain's back  
awkwardly.

"I'll show you idiots how to cage a wolf," Ranma said.

Night, in Aquila.

After a slight delay at the gate, [a guard was about to kill the wolf in the  
cage in the back of the cart, but Imperius pointed out what a forgiving man  
the Bishop was so the guard backed off and waved them through, causing Ryoga  
to mutter that the Bishop must have been a graduate of the Darth Vader  
School of Personnel Management...] they pretty much waltzed right into the  
city.

Watching from below the bridge, Mousse sighed. "We've come full circle,  
Kami-sama," he said. "I'd like to think there's some higher meaning in all  
this... It certainly would reflect well on You..." He took a deep breath  
and dove.

Back into the labyrinth of sewers and canals, back under the city, under the  
cathedral itself, to the chimney of stone beneath the grating, to a ledge,  
and then to wait for the day.

The bells of Aquila rang, calling the clergy in to confess. Clouds obscured  
the sky. Mousse worked his way up the sewer shaft and began to pry at the  
bolts of the grating with the little knife Navarre had given him. Imperius  
hid with Navarre and the cart in a windowless cul-de-sac near the cathedral;  
Navarre armored and armed now with his secondary sword, his old helmet in  
hand, a familiar, yellow and black bandanna tied around his upper arm.

"It should be soon now," Imperius said. "Once these clouds break..."  
Cologne shook her head at the impatience of youth. Ranma was always going  
to do things his way.

"It's day, old ghoul. Like it was yesterday, like it will be tomorrow."

"Navarre, don't be a fool; this chance will never come again."

"You're right, old ghoul. The service will be over soon. If Mousse has  
done his job, I can kill the Bishop now - or never." He jessed and hooded  
the hawk and handed him to the monk. "If the Mass ends peacefully, and the  
bells toll again, you will know I have failed." He stroked the hawk's  
breast with a gloved finger. "I...beg you. Take his life. Quick. And  
painless."

Cologne stared at him levelly. "I can't do that..."

Ranma bared his teeth. "Yes you can; I beg you! The cruelty would be to  
damn him to a half-life! That's not what he wants."

"Don't get snippy with ME, son-in-law..."

"Have you ever considered that this is what Kami-sama intended all along?"

Ranma mounted and turned Goliath toward the cathedral, leaving Cologne with  
the hawk, and a dagger.

Inside the cathedral, Mousse had gotten the rotten bolts pried out, and was  
just about the lift the grating, when a robed clergyman walked up and stood  
right on it, nearly mashing Mousse's fingers. Mousse said several very  
impolite things in Chinese, his voice muffled by the chanting of the  
priests. He used the dagger point to prod the man away, stabbing through  
the soles of his boots. The priest hopped away, muttering to a companion  
about rats; scandalous!

Everyone's eyes were on the altar and dais, as the Bishop himself came in,  
resplendent in his jeweled, white robes. Soun Marquet and most of the  
Bishop's guard were in there, too; Genma had gotten rather paranoid about  
this day for some reason.

The grating cleared, Mousse lifted it and slipped out of the hole, counting  
on his natural stealth until he found a spare robe conveniently hanging with  
several others behind a pillar. He watched the guards closing, barring and  
locking the big main doors behind the last of the assembling clergy.

Mousse grumbled to himself as he  
made his way inconspicuously to the rear of the church.

Navarre, on Goliath, cantered from a side street into the square before the  
cathedral. The Elite Guard was arrayed before him, blocking entry. Navarre  
raised his sword in salute. "As the one who was once your Captain, and  
through the Grace of Kami-sama will one day be again, I ask that you let me  
pass."

The lieutenant, with more bravado than brains, rode up to meet him.  
"Captain Navarre; I have orders-"

Ranma slapped the sword out of the man's hand before he could even draw it  
fully. The lieutenant, finally getting the picture - especially since he  
knew the rest of his men liked Navarre better than Marquet anyway - backed  
off.

Navarre closed the visor of his helmet with a deft swipe of his sword - a  
neat trick! - and rode on, the ranks parting before him like, well... you  
get the picture...

Inside, Mousse was having difficulty with the lock. One of the guards had  
noticed him and was working his way toward him. Mousse was about to say to  
Jigoku with it and just whip out some ridiculously massive blade and cut the  
whole thing off.

The guard got closer... Navarre rode up the steps... Imperius gazed at the  
unquiet sky and waited...

The guard approached. Navarre neared the main entrance. Mousse fumbled  
with the lock for one more second...

...then whipped out a ridiculously large axe and cut the entire bar in half.  
He jumped up to slide the top bolt back just as the guard raised his sword.  
Goliath reared, bringing his hooves down on the doors, slamming them open,  
Mousse swinging on the handle out of harm's way. The guard wasn't so  
lucky - Goliath is a really big horse.

Goliath came down inside the church; Navarre and Mousse exchanged a quick  
salute, then Mousse scurried out the door while Navarre began his solo  
procession of death. The ringing of steel-shod hooves on the stone floor  
echoed painfully in the vaulted space. The Bishop watched calmly as his  
flock made way for the dark rider.

Navarre heard the second set of hoofbeats behind him and turned to face Soun  
Marquet. Jousting in a church is normally not recommended, but that's  
pretty much what they commenced to doing. Short of firing a cannon, or  
holding a rock concert, it's possibly one of the loudest things one can do  
in an enclosed stone space that was designed to facilitate sound carrying.

Outside, Mousse ran for the cart. Sliding underneath, he searched in the  
straw, then sighed in relief. "Ohh... Thank you, Kami-sama."

Back inside, Navarre managed to knock Marquet off his mount - a very pretty  
gray, by the way; lovely mane and tail. In rage and frustration, Marquet  
ripped off his helmet and flung it with all his strength at Navarre.  
Navarre yelped and ducked; the helmet maybe clipped his arm, I'm not sure,  
but in any case, the thing went sailing up and up - Marquet should have been  
a pitcher - crashing through the main panel of the rose window.

Now through the window came amber sunlight, streaming eerily through the  
gathered clouds.

Marquet tackled Navarre, and the fight progressed on foot, sword-to-sword.  
More arcane martial arts tactics would have destroyed the cathedral and  
anyway it wasn't in the script.

Then for a moment, Marquet was down, and as thunder rolled through the  
glimmering air, Navarre looked up.

A circle of darkness moved slowly, biting into the sun, now visible through  
parted clouds.

"Night without a day," Navarre whispered, stricken. "A day without a  
night..." He whirled, making for the door. "Imperius! WAIT!"

But Marquet intercepted him, dragging him back into battle. In the heights  
of the cathedral, a guard grabbed at the main bell-rope to ring the alarm.  
Navarre saw him, kicked Marquet away and threw a dagger. The guard fell,  
catching at the rope-

The man was dead before he hit the ground, and his feeble brushing at the  
rope rocked but did not ring the enormous bronze bell.

However, another guard soon took his place, and Navarre was out of daggers.  
The clamor of the bell was heard all over Aquila.

Imperius looked up at the sound. The knife in her hand gleamed in the  
strange, half-obscured sunlight.

"STOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOP!!" Navarre howled, a human sound of anguish. The  
bell's tolling died away. Navarre stared bleakly at nothing, or at what was  
left of his life. Easy to shorten it now. "Imperius," he murmured dully.  
"Make it quick..."

In the blind alley, Imperius closed her eyes. The hawk skreeled restively.  
"Kami-sama, forgive me."

Navarre turned to face the Bishop. Marquet intercepted him again, but now  
Navarre fought with a strange combination of inchoate rage and fey  
lassitude. He must kill the Bishop, but did it really matter? Did anything  
really matter now? His heart was dead.

Marquet fought with all his fury and hatred, and he still had  
self-preservation in the corner of his mind. Navarre found himself on the  
floor, disarmed, scrambling weakly away as Marquet approached, sword held  
ready for the downward stab that would end it all.

Mousse, breathless, came in, unnoticed. Pushing through the crowd of clergy  
pressed in alarm against the walls, he hurried closer to the fight, then  
crouched, pulling Navarre's greatsword from his robe, sliding it across the  
floor.

Navarre and Marquet were grappling, three swords lost and regained and lost  
again across the stones. Once more Marquet poised for the fatal strike.

Navarre rolled *toward* him as the blade came down, then rolled back,  
trapping the blade and yanking it out of Marquet's fingers. Navarre kept  
rolling, catching the hilt as Marquet came after him, bringing up the point  
just as Marquet lunged.

Soun burst into tears and wailed at the Author. "It's not fair! You didn't  
kill Kodachi!" The sword tented his mantle at the back.

Navarre levered him over and let the body fall. "She let me 'kill' Kuno,  
though," Ranma muttered. "Just shut up and pretend to be dead. Enough with  
the crying already!"

The sun's corona flared around the moon as the eclipse reached totality.

Soun's sniffles abated gradually as Navarre got up and retrieved his  
greatsword, nodding an acknowledgement to Mousse. Mousse nodded back  
grimly.

Navarre approached the Bishop, smacking away the last futile guard. Genma  
came out from the podium to meet him, smiling a little. His glasses shone  
demoniacally in the dimness.

Navarre raised his sword.

"But kill me, Navarre, and the curse will go on forever." Genma's smugness  
was unmistakable. "We must think of Ryoga."

A last flicker of fire swept through Navarre's eyes. "Ryoga. Is dead."  
The tip of the sword pointed at the Bishop's throat. "Damn you. Damn you  
to Hell." Navarre coiled to strike.

"Navarre?"

Navarre froze, gasping, eyes wide. The Bishop shivered and hid his eyes,  
turning his face down toward his bishopric staff. The expressions on  
everyone's faces changed utterly. The clear ringing of that voice was  
familiar as his own, though he hadn't heard even a breath of it for two long  
years. Hadn't thought he'd ever hear it again. He didn't even dare to  
turn. Not yet.

Baring his teeth, he leapt upon the Bishop, grabbing the silken robes, sword  
at the throat. "Look."

The Bishop held his arms crossed before his eyes, trembling.

Navarre shook him. "Look at him."

Genma looked up. Beheld Ryoga standing in the returning light of the sun.

"Look at me." Navarre backed up, releasing his hold on the Bishop's  
cassock, sword sliding metal on metal along the staff as Navarre stepped  
away. "Look at us."

Genma's gaze stayed locked on Ryoga.

"LOOK AT US!!" Navarre shouted. The Bishop started, mouth and eyes open  
wide as the cursed couple stood before him, both human.

"It's over," Imperius said softly to Mousse, watching everything from beside  
a nearby column. "It's broken." Navarre turned at last, to see Ryoga.

Ryoga slowly approached, left hand held out, trembling, fingers spread.  
Needing the reassurance of touch, but terribly afraid. In his right fist  
were clutched several long, thin bits of leather. With each step he took  
the light increased, the shadow of the moon falling away.

Navarre fell to his knees.

Ryoga reached out, touched a human face streaked with sweat and blood. A  
human face, with eyes like the sea after a storm. [Wrong movie again, but  
it fits.] Navarre caught his other hand, but the bits of leather stopped  
them. Ryoga looked up at the Bishop, his expression hardening into icy  
contempt.

Leaving Navarre still kneeling in shock, Ryoga walked up the steps to the  
dais where the Bishop waited.

Genma, also on his knees, looked up into the face of love, love's vengeance.  
Ryoga held out his right hand, open, letting the thongs of leather uncurl on  
his palm. Untangling the strips, Ryoga held them out to the Bishop. And  
then with a single, tiny motion, let his jesses drop into Genma's lap.

Ryoga returned to Navarre, refusing to waste his time on garbage. The  
couple clasped hands now unencumbered, eyes meeting eyes.

But Genma rose up, the fire already having eaten his heart away, releasing  
the cap on his staff, baring the steel point. He hefted the staff like a  
spear, aiming at Navarre or Ryoga or both. "Then no man shall!"

"Navarre!" Imperius cried.

Ranma's speed is legendary, for good reason. He turned, shielded Ryoga and  
hurled his greatsword with all his considerable strength at the Bishop.

Genma was flung backward with the force of the blow, impaled and pinned to  
the base of the podium. He stared, uncomprehending, at the crosspiece and  
hilt sticking out of his chest. Beside him, a trapdoor that hadn't been  
there a minute ago opened in the floor. Flames and crimson light seared out  
and a little, octopus-like man leapt out, swinging a lacy bra around a  
fingertip and giggling maniacally about his beauties. "Time for another  
training mission, Genma! You, too, Soun! Hurry up!!"

Genma and Soun rose up and were pulled in, screaming and sobbing, after the  
little Oompa-Loompa lookalike. The trapdoor slammed shut behind them with a  
metallic clang and disappeared.

Ranma and Ryoga, Mousse and Cologne, all stood panting, glad they'd all  
gotten off so easily. [Stop that, you hentai!] Mousse pulled off his  
glasses, which were inexplicably steamed up, and wiped his eyes.  
Impulsively he leaned over and hugged Imperius. [In the movie, he kisses  
him, but I thought anyone kissing Cologne would squick out too many people  
here so... ^^;]

Navarre and Ryoga walked down the aisle until they stood in the sunlight  
streaming in from the shattered rose window. Drinking in the sight of each  
other. Their lips met, confirming realities as they stood in sunlight and  
Ryoga didn't change, human bodies touching. Ranma pulled back, fingering  
the wisps of hair at Ryoga's nape. "You cut your hair," he said, his voice  
breaking. Ryoga laughed weakly [and the Author gets weak, too, thinking of  
a long-haired Ryoga] and they fell together again. "I love you...Ryoga..."

"Ranma..."

Mousse and Imperius watched them happily for a moment, then headed for the  
door. Ryoga saw them and signaled Ranma with his eyes.

"You two!" Ranma's voice rang clear, stopping the two Amazons. "C'mere."

Mousse and Imperius joined them in the sunlight.

"May Kami-sama's blessing be with you both, from this day forward," Imperius  
said, uncomfortable and falling back on old, ecclesiastical habits.

Navarre put a hand on the old ghoul's shoulder. "I bless the day He brought  
you back to us, Father." He shifted his grip to the back of Mousse's neck,  
bringing the nearsighted boy closer. "And you..." Ranma leaned forward and  
kissed him, lightly on the lips. "And you."

Mousse almost fell when Ranma released him, suddenly dizzy. But it wasn't  
over yet. Ryoga took his hand. "The truest friends we could ever have,"  
the Lost Boy said earnestly. A little more hesitant, Ryoga leaned in and  
kissed Mousse too, perhaps tasting Ranma on the Amazon boy's lips. Mousse  
pulled away, blushing furiously, staggering a little as Imperius took his  
hand out of Ryoga's and led him away, toward the open doors.

"I fully expect to meet you at the Pearly Gates, little thief," Imperius  
said sternly. "Don't you *dare* disappoint me!"

"As if I would, you old bat," Mousse muttered, discarding his borrowed  
monk's robe. "I'll meet you there, Father. Even if I have to pick the  
lock..."

Ranma and Ryoga watched them and laughed, then turned to each other. Ranma  
grabbed Ryoga and lifted him up into the sunlight, shouting his name,  
swinging around in delirious joy. Ryoga threw his head back, crying and  
laughing and running his hands through Ranma's hair. Surrounded by stone  
that now was a sanctuary again, not a prison, and clergy who were also  
freed, Ranma and Ryoga proclaimed their love aloud, and spun in the light.

Fade to credits and more wonderful Alan Parsons music. ^____^


End file.
